Four years ago, filled with gusto and determination to be ~~creative~~ I started a personal blog. I wrote one entry. Then never returned.
At the time, I was in the middle of a full blown, mid-twenties crisis. You know what I mean… I had no idea who I was, what I wanted to do, what I was MEANT to do, or how I should go about doing it.
I’m sure no one will be surprised to know that after four years, nothing has really changed. I’m still an insufferable fuckwit who doesn’t have a clue. Well, that’s not entirely true. I learned some things. I learned that shaving my legs is a really bad move for me. But I also learned that (contrary to popular myths), waxing does NOT get less painful over time. I learned that I get very unhappy working 9am – 5pm, five days a week, even if it’s in a job relevant to my industry. I also learnt that I’m a total pansy and the idea of going full on freelance to be a producer or an actor or a writer scares the crap out of me, and I lack the gumption to do it properly. I learnt that I want to have a family one day. But I also learned that the idea of settling down in the suburbs in order to do so makes me feel like I’m being strangled. I learned that London is the only place I can see a future for myself. But I also learned that the theatre industry is so poorly paid and London so prohibitively expensive to live in, that the idea of settling down here is a laughable fantasy. Basically, in the process of finding answers to some questions, I uncovered many, many, more.
So here I am, nearly 30, admitting that I still don’t have a freaking clue and I’m scared. The panic from my mid-twenties has become amplified because more than ever, it feels like time is running out. To quote the majestic Dylan Moran: I don’t know what I want, but I know that I want it now.
So let’s just see how it goes.